masochistic slut

I'm 27 years old, married, and single. My husband treats me very well, and I haven't done anything to betray him since our marriage. However, in the quiet moments of our lives, I still occasionally think about my past experiences. Let me recount them here.

I've had masochistic tendencies since childhood, and after puberty, I felt my libido was stronger than that of most girls. In high school, I read SM novels online and fantasized at night about being brutally violated by a man. I had a boyfriend in high school, but because of my shyness in real life, the most outrageous thing we did was him secretly touching my breasts during self-study. In college, my boyfriend became a long-distance relationship, and I slowly began to feel lonely. I read a lot of SM forum content online, so I started looking for like-minded people on QQ to try real-life BDSM.

I can't remember how many men I've chatted with online about explicit things, so I'll just talk about those I've met in person. Because I'm a rather cautious and shy person in real life, I haven't actually met many of them in person. The first one I met was during my junior year of college. He was from the same city and also a college student. We chatted for about a month. He was quite rough in our conversations, often saying he wanted to fuck me hard, make me crawl like a bitch from behind, and after that, he'd put a banana in my mouth and make me sleep with it between my legs so it wouldn't fall out. I didn't have much experience at the time, but I instinctively felt he was my type, so we met up. After he took me out to eat, he took me to a short-term rental apartment. Looking back, I guess he wasn't well-off, inexperienced, or good with girls. I was also a bit shy and absolutely refused to let him penetrate me. So, the meeting ended with us undressing and caressing each other, and me kneeling before him. For me, it was the first time I'd ever seen a man's penis, and I even put it in my mouth. I was quite excited. For him, my resistance probably frustrated him a bit (after all, I was quite open in our conversations). So, we gradually lost contact and never saw each other again.

What followed was more aimless searching and chatting. During this time, I gained a deeper understanding of BDSM. Something else happened: I finally broke up with my long-distance boyfriend during my senior year of college, which relieved me of any moral pressure while I was looking. My goal then became finding a mature, experienced "master" who could subdue me and had a profound understanding of BDSM. Later, I met a dominant who seemed to fit my ideal—34 years old, married but in a long-distance relationship. He lived in a relatively large city near my hometown. We agreed to start our first real-life training session after I graduated and returned home. Because I was concerned about my hometown and future marriage prospects, I specifically stipulated that no matter how I trained him, the bottom line was that my hymen couldn't be broken, and he agreed (although by the time I actually met my husband, he was no longer a dominant, but that's another story). In the period leading up to graduation, I had already accepted him as my master online. We often chatted until late at night, and he would give me some simple online "training," such as making me clip my penis to a clothespin for half an hour before going to sleep when others were in the dorm. I remember often finding the sheets soaked with fluid after completing these tasks.

Finally, graduation arrived, and after arranging things at home, I eagerly awaited meeting my master. One weekend, I told my parents I was going to visit a classmate and took a bus to see my master. He picked me up at the station. We had video chatted before, so we found each other quickly. As soon as I saw him, my face flushed red, and I started to feel wet down there. My heart was pounding, and I lowered my head, too afraid to speak. He chatted with me about everyday things and then took me to his home. When we got on the elevator, it was just the two of us. He whispered in my ear, "Why aren't you talking?" I said I was a little scared. He said, "Scared of what? Are you afraid I'll hit you? Or do you want me to hit you?" I immediately felt incredibly wet down there. We arrived at my master's house quickly. I remember it was winter, and I was wearing many layers. My master helped me put away my bag and coat, then sat down on the sofa and looked at me. I was still very shy, standing at the doorway, unsure what to do. It felt like an eternity passed, and I started to feel awkward. Finally, my master spoke, "Don't you know what to do?" I felt like I had finally found a way out, and I began to slowly move towards my master's side. When I stopped beside him, he still looked at me coldly. This time, it didn't take long before I knelt down, lowered my head, and dared not look at him. My master seemed somewhat satisfied and gave a soft "hmm," telling me to raise my head. As soon as I did, he quickly grabbed my chin with one hand and slapped me several times across the face with the other. I felt like I was about to climax; it was a scene I had fantasized about since childhood finally happening in reality. I was incredibly excited. The master said the slaps were punishment for my slow movements, and since it was the first time, it was considered lenient; if it happened again, it wouldn't be just a few slaps. Next, the master said he wanted to examine my body and made me take off my clothes. This was very embarrassing for me; although I wanted to, I couldn't overcome the shell of my years-old reserved nature. Finally, under the master's coercion and enticement, I took off my clothes one by one. When I was down to just one piece, I stopped, looked at the master, who looked at me for two seconds, said nothing, and slapped me. After the slap, I didn't hesitate and quickly took off my clothes again. Looking back now, I realize I just needed an excuse to justify my actions, to believe that it wasn't my nature, but rather my fear of being beaten that made me submit. Once I was undressed, we all noticed that I was already extremely wet, even producing slicks of fluid during the undressing process. I blushed deeply again, and after finishing, I quickly buried my head on the ground, thinking, "It really is masochism that gives me the most pleasure."

The master began to speak, first correcting my kneeling posture. He instructed me that my legs should not be together, but at least two fist-widths apart, so that he could easily observe and play with my breasts (a word I only managed to utter later under his severe whipping). He also instructed me that unless he asked me to kowtow or lick anything, my normal kneeling posture required me to stand tall with my chest out and hands behind my back, so he could easily observe and play with my breasts. Next, we completed the master-slave ceremony we had agreed upon online. The master announced a few rules, and my kowtowing was nothing special. Then came some humiliating discipline. The master said it was my first time, so it was all mild. I remember some of the details, but it's been too long to recall clearly or coherently, so I'll skip them. What followed was extremely memorable.

My master specially prepared a new rope for me. I chose the color myself; it's a smooth rope, several strands twisted together, quite thick, so it won't prick or constrict me too much when tied, and it will leave a nice but easily fading rope mark. I really like this rope, and I still keep it, hidden in my bedroom at my parents' house, and haven't taken it out in a long time. That day, my master first tied a tortoise shell bondage on me. As those who know, this method of binding is both beautiful and almost painless. However, when my master was binding me, he tied three knots on the rope that passed between my legs, adjusting the position so that it fit perfectly over my two orifices. After being tied like this, it was fine when I stood still, but then my master asked me to kneel in front of the sofa. As soon as I moved, I felt the knots getting a little embedded in the orifices, but I still knelt down as my master instructed. At this moment, the master sat on the sofa, kneading my breasts with one hand, occasionally slapping them or pinching my nipples hard. His other hand would occasionally reach over and tug at the rope around my lower body, especially tugging hard when I made a sound. After a while, the master turned on the TV, watching programs while continuing to play with me. Sometimes he would lean back on the sofa, not using his hands, but instead using his crossed legs to pinch my nipples or kick other parts of my body. During this time, the master's gaze never lingered on me. I knelt on the floor, afraid to move, feeling like a toy being played with at will, a tool being used arbitrarily. My user had no regard for my feelings, nor did he need to. This feeling of being humiliated caused waves of fluid to surge from my lower body, flowing down my thighs. The ever-increasing pleasure, yet the inability to release it, tormented me to the point of madness. I had long since forgotten all my feelings and wished I could kowtow and beg my master to release me on the spot. However, my master was unaware of my inner thoughts, and I did not actually beg him. So, I pitifully remained unfulfilled until the end of this training session. My master, however, kept his promise.

Time passed, and it was almost noon. The master turned off the TV and finally turned to look at me with a meaningful smile. He touched my genitals, and a glistening liquid clung to his hand. He laughed and asked, "Tell me yourself, am I shameless?" I wanted to disappear into the ground and lower my head, refusing to speak. Suddenly, the master grabbed my hair and pulled it back, forcing me to look up at him. He said sternly, "You must answer loudly and immediately when the master asks you a question! Am I shameless?" With that, he used his other hand to smear what he had just touched on both sides of my face. I dared not hesitate any longer and quickly answered, "Yes!" The master nodded in satisfaction and released me. Next, the master untied the tortoise-shell bindings and changed the binding method. This time, it was a back binding, which made my breasts protrude prominently. My hands were also bound behind my back, restricting my freedom while causing considerable pain. Then, the master bound my legs together, making it impossible for me to move on my own. After tying me up, my master still made me kneel down. Then he took out his phone, dialed a number, and handed it to me. I hesitated, looking at my master, unsure of his meaning, until a voice came through the receiver: "Hello, this is Pizza Hut. What would you like?" My master said softly, "Order whatever you want." At that moment, I couldn't think of anything related to food. I didn't know what to order, so I hesitated for a moment before asking what the two-person set meals were. Before I could even finish a sentence, my master's hand reached over and pinched my nipple hard. I cried out in surprise. I couldn't keep up with what the person on the other end of the phone was saying. My master smiled smugly, showing no intention of letting me off the hook. He continued to playfully pinch my nipple with several fingers. Knowing that the person on the other end was still listening to my voice, I was overwhelmed with shame. I could only barely endure it, and in a trembling voice, I randomly ordered a two-person set meal. The moment the call ended, I finally breathed a sigh of relief and began to beg my master for mercy. The master finally released me, found some tissues to wipe my genitals clean, then lifted me up and threw me face down onto the sofa. My hands and feet were bound, and the position was extremely uncomfortable, but I could only wriggle a few times. Then the master went into the inner room and came out a while later with a whip. He walked up to me, placed one end of the whip on my genitals, and asked, "Do you know why you're being beaten?" I said I didn't. The master didn't say anything more, adjusted my position, made me bend over, and then began to whip me. To be honest, the whipping didn't hurt much, especially at the beginning when the master wasn't using much force. I didn't feel much pain; in fact, it felt a little ineffective. After a while, the master stopped. I didn't feel much pain, just a little warm. Just when I was starting to enjoy the whipping, the master left again. When he came back, the whip was gone, and he had a leather belt in his hand. The master used the belt to slash at my genitals, telling me that the reason for the punishment was that he didn't like the food I ordered… Good heavens, how was I supposed to know what you liked to eat?! The master noticed my defiance and said, "Ignorance is no excuse for acting on your own. If you don't know something, you can ask the master. It will be the same in the future. If you don't understand any orders, you must ask for instructions promptly. You can't assume things." I suddenly understood the master's intention in setting rules for me, so I cooperated and said that I knew I was wrong and asked the master to punish me severely. The master didn't say much and used the belt in his hand to beat me mercilessly. Actually, he was holding back, but the pain of the belt was really not easy. Simply put, I was beaten to tears. But at the same time, I realized that when I was being whipped earlier, I felt very relaxed, and my body didn't change much. Now that the belt had been changed, I was howling like a banshee, and my lower body, which had just been wiped clean, was already leaking again uncontrollably. I once again secretly sighed at my constitution that only felt good when it hurt.

Before the beating had even stopped, the intercom downstairs rang—the food delivery had arrived. The master finally released the belt, and I breathed a sigh of relief. But when I saw that the master made no move to move me or cover me after opening the building door, I panicked again. You see, I was completely naked, bound, bent over, with red welts from the beating, just lying there exposed on the living room sofa! The security door opened, and this scene was completely visible! I desperately begged the master not to leave me there, but he just touched me and said, "If I want to show you to others, can you refuse?" I was almost in despair. The doorbell rang, and the master went to open the door. I was extremely nervous, yet also secretly enjoying the shame of being exposed and the thrill of being manipulated. This feeling reached its peak the moment the master opened the door. Thankfully, my master only opened the door a crack; from that angle, no one could see me. He quickly gave me the money and food through the crack, then closed the security door tightly again. My master smiled and walked towards me. I felt almost completely exhausted. He knelt down, gently kissed me, and said, "Trust me." I felt so warm, and I felt I wanted to kneel before him forever, to be his slave forever. Next, my master sat at the table to eat, and I knelt at his feet. The lunchbox was on the floor, and my hands were still tied behind my back. I could only eat the pasta bit by bit with my teeth and tongue, like a little dog. We finished our lunch together.

After lunch, my master untied me and took me to the bedroom for a nap. Lying in his arms, I was gently touched on my breasts from time to time. It felt so good, and I was tired from the morning, so I quickly fell asleep. After waking up, we didn't leave the bedroom. The master simply made me kneel on the bed for him. Lacking experience, I was clumsy. The master spent a long time instructing me on the details and told me to practice diligently with bananas and other things when I got home. He also said that if I didn't practice well, he would give me a rubber model to take home next time, and he wouldn't care how I hid it. I have to say, this threat was quite effective. This time, because of my poor technique, I couldn't make the master ejaculate on my own. In the end, I knelt on the ground, and the master stood and used my mouth as a substitute for oral sex until he ejaculated. The master made me swallow it all. This was my first time eating a man's semen, and I didn't find it strange. After that, every time semen was ejaculated into my mouth, whether it was the master's or other men's, I never spat it out.

To be continued: Next training session will include enemas and... Also, have I written too much? I didn't intend to write this much, but once I started, I couldn't stop...

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I've received many private messages recently. Let me clarify here: I've been away from this community for a long time. I've even forgotten the password to my alternate account, and I haven't contacted any of the people mentioned in the text. I haven't used this forum account in ages either. Furthermore, I'm very happy with my life now and don't want to make any changes, so please understand. Please stop sending messages asking me to make friends or join the community; I won't reply to them. Thank you everyone.

I saw new replies today. Some said it reads like a novel, others said I don't look like a girl... Okay, I feel very honored to hear the former. Let me explain that I wrote so much because I ramble on too much. You can check out my other post. I turned such a small thing as talking to my husband tonight into a long essay. Sorry for being such a chatterbox, haha~ As for the latter, I feel hurt. What makes me not look like a girl? Tell me, tell me, tell me~~~

Also, I saw some people saying they're following the updates, so I'm making this special mention. Some of you may have already seen this in the other forum. I wrote this because I was unhappy and sexually frustrated, so I was writing it out of spite towards my husband. But now I'm enjoying telling my husband's story, so I don't want to update this for now. I feel a little guilty even though it's just a recollection~ I'll update more later if I have the chance. I can give you a spoiler, and you can guess who gave it to me~ No prize for guessing correctly~~ Hehe~~ Simply put, I separated from this owner and never recognized another owner. Later, I found a s in the same city who liked to hit people. I didn't feel any sense of belonging with this one; it was more about satisfying each other's physical needs. Then I met a guy around my age. We hooked up a few times, but somehow we became gay. Then I met my current husband. If you're interested, you can check out my unreserved confession to my husband next door. Meeting him is the luckiest thing that ever happened to me. He saved me from fear, from suffering, from wandering aimlessly, from having no one to rely on. I never dared to believe I would have such good luck. That's all for now. Goodbye.

[The End]

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